


All the Rewards

by KouriArashi



Series: All the Rewards [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Communication, Humor, M/M, Slash, give and take, relationship building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KouriArashi/pseuds/KouriArashi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to 'To Those Who Wait'. Stiles isn't sure what all this means. But he is sure that he likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> This picks up exactly as the last one ends, so it dives right into the smut and deals with the FEELS afterwards. =D
> 
> Thanks to mizixy for a) asking for this and b) suggesting a title. Because I am terrible at titles. Which is why the series and this fic have the same title.
> 
> I'm not a big texter so honestly I have no idea what text conversations would look like. I did my best.
> 
> I know I said this would just be a one-shot, but hey... why pass by a good plot bunny?

“I’m nowhere near done with you yet,” Derek says. “You said you wanted _all_ the rewards, remember? We’re only getting started.”

“Is the next reward getting to see your dick?” Stiles asks, perking up. “Because I am _so_ in favor of that. And if the reward after that is getting to _touch_ your dick I will totally be on board with that, too.”

“You’re a real romantic, you know that?” Derek says. He rolls over so he’s half on top of Stiles and kisses him again. Stiles twines a hand in his hair and lets Derek kiss him for what feels like hours. Amazing, wonderful hours. He’s still a little nervous, but admonishes himself. He can’t leave Derek hanging, after all, so he reaches down and undoes the button and fly of his jeans. Derek makes a little groaning noise in the back of his throat, pushing himself into Stiles’ hands. Stiles just grins a little and then reaches into Derek’s pants to gently free him from the surrounding fabric.

“So, like . . . can I just do whatever feels right and if it’s not okay, you’ll tell me?” Stiles asks.

“Sure,” Derek says, panting for breath.

“That’s kind of ironic,” Stiles says, rolling both of them over so Derek is on his back and he can see what he’s doing. Which, now that he can see, he really can’t look away, because this is _Derek Hale_ stretched out mostly naked and writhing in his grip, and it’s the sexiest thing to have ever existed, ever, period, full stop. “I mean, we can’t communicate about anything else, but we’re great at communicating about sex.”

“God, you . . . you really don’t ever shut up, do you,” Derek says.

“Nope.” Stiles is fascinated, almost hypnotized, by the sight of his own hand on Derek’s cock. He keeps his strokes slow and uneven, never quite giving Derek a rhythm to settle into. Every time he thinks they have one, Stiles changes things up.

“What . . . what the hell are you doing,” Derek says, almost a gasp.

“Just playing,” Stiles says, with an innocent grin. “I’m a _pro_ at this. I mean, I have a lot of experience. With myself. You know. What I’m saying is that I jerk off a lot.”

Derek almost laughs, but then squirms a little underneath him, rocking his hips forward, still trying to establish some sort of rhythm. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters.

“So what comes after this?” Stiles asks, still stroking him, his hand moving a little more easily now. “Because you did say _all_ the rewards, and you may regret that, because I’m a teenaged boy with an internet connection and you have no idea how many things I want to try. Like, I want to try it in the car, and in the shower, and in the locker room at school, and I want to do it in my room like while my dad is downstairs so we both have to stay really quiet, I want you to fuck me with your hand over my mouth so I can’t make noise.” He’s not even aware of what he’s saying anymore, words just spilling out as he watches his hand work on Derek, listens to the breathy little groans Derek makes. “I want to suck you off and I want to try 69, I’m not sure how that works but I really want to try it and find out. I think we should play strip Twister at least once, and I _definitely_ think that at some point today we should actually make it to your bedroom, I’m just sayin’. Can I – ” and without saying anything else he leans down to lick at the head of Derek’s cock, to taste him there. Derek lets out a shout as his hips jerk upwards. “Nice,” Stiles says, and drags his tongue along the underside of Derek’s cock, and his orgasm takes them both by surprise. Stiles actually rears back a little, he’s so startled. But he keeps Derek in hand, holds him steady throughout all of it. He collapses back against the floor, all the tension going out of his body. Stiles draws his hand up to his mouth and starts to lick it clean.

“Oh, _Jesus_ ,” Derek groans, watching him.

“Not okay?” Stiles asks, worried that this might be considered gross.

“That is the sexiest God damned thing I have ever seen,” Derek tells him.

“Oh,” Stiles says, so he finishes what he was doing, and then leans down to lick the rest of it off Derek’s stomach. It’s not a great taste, but it’s not a bad one either, and Derek seems to really enjoy watching him do it. He’s hard again, has been since about halfway through the handjob, and one hand wanders down to idly stroke himself while he cleans Derek off. “So is, is this how it works?” he asks. “Do we just take turns? Because . . . I could do this all day, seriously. I could do this for the rest of my life.”

Derek’s eyes open and he studies what Stiles is doing. “I thought you wanted to make it to the bedroom at some point.”

“Priorities,” Stiles says, humming in the back of his throat, just keeping things slow and easy. He realizes Derek is watching him, but it’s not embarrassing even though he thinks maybe it should be. It’s sexy as hell, the way Derek’s eyes are just drinking in the detail. “I probably should have thought about condoms, but this isn’t exactly what I pictured happening when I decided to come over here today.”

“Werewolves can’t catch or carry diseases,” Derek informs him, reaching out with one hand to trace gentle fingers along Stiles’ throat.

“Oh. Okay. Good to know.” Stiles’ eyes drift shut for a moment as Derek’s fingers move up along his jaw and then over his lips. He opens his mouth and lets two of them slide in, sucking on them purely by instinct, just doing whatever seems to work. He hears Derek mutter another curse. It occurs to him, suddenly, that he’s _good_ at this. That Derek seems to actually be enjoying himself. That all those hours of internet research were not wasted. But he’s not sure where to go from here. He doesn’t just want to jerk himself off. It seems rude somehow. But he’s not sure how to ask Derek to join in again, when Derek seems to be enjoying just watching him. After a moment, he decides to just ask. Saying whatever the hell is on his mind seems to have worked wonders so far. “Are you gonna give me a hand here, or what?”

Derek growls a little and then surprises him by grabbing him around the waist, and the next thing Stiles knows, he’s in the air and Derek is carrying him across the apartment. He laughs and protests a little, something about ‘grog carry you to cave now’ and then Derek is dumping him down on the bed. “Hey, we made it to the bedroom, that, that’s A-plus work there,” Stiles says, watching as Derek finally gets around to stripping him out of his pants.

“Glad you approve,” Derek says with a roll of his eyes, stretching out on the bed next to Stiles, mostly beside him, but a little bit on top of him. Their bodies overlap, and Stiles loves the line of warmth between them. Derek reaches out and touches Stiles’ collarbone. “You’re going to have a mark there.”

“Yeah?” Stiles says. “Okay, good.” He tilts his head back and tries to keep his breathing steady when Derek leans down to nip and suck at the exact same place. “I like that. Is that fucked up?”

Derek just makes one of those little noises that’s part huff, part growl, and continues to lavish attention on Stiles’ chest with his mouth. Stiles strains upwards for more contact, but Derek just takes his hips in both hands and firmly presses him against the mattress. Stiles wants to protest, but as Derek’s mouth moves lower, he starts to get an idea of where this is heading, and he can’t think of anything to say. Somehow he loves that about Derek, too. That he always seems to leave him speechless. “I, I, I feel like I should say something momentous here,” Stiles stammers as he feels Derek’s breath against his hip. “But I don’t have words for this.”

“Good,” Derek growls, low in his throat. “I don’t want to hear you again until you’re coming.”

Stiles’ mouth just hangs open at that because it’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to him, and there’s no thoughts at all in his brain, just a pleasant hum of white noise. Then Derek’s mouth is on him and all the air leaves his lungs because _nothing_ should feel that good. It shouldn’t be physically possible. His hips try to jerk upwards but Derek pins him down with one arm, his other hand wrapping around the base of Stiles’ cock, holding him steady. He doesn’t take Stiles all the way into his mouth, but Stiles doesn’t care. One hand is tangled in the sheets and the other is clutching at Derek’s shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to leave little bruises, if Derek bruised. A steady stream of whimpers and mindless pleading is leaving his mouth and he’s not even aware of it. “Oh God, Derek, I, I need this, I, Derek, please,” he rambles, barely managing to say each word.

But Derek doesn’t rush things and Stiles doesn’t protest because he’s determined to hold out longer this time; he wants this to last _forever_. So he lets Derek keep him pinned down and whines desperately as Derek licks and sucks and strokes. When he finally comes, it hits him so hard that he almost blacks out for a second, his entire body bent around Derek, clinging to him as long as his body will still obey him.

Afterwards, he’s sprawled out on Derek’s bed, loose-limbed and jelly-legged, barely able to feel _anything_ after something so intense. Derek gives him gentle kisses on the mouth, on the temple, on the crown of his head, and Stiles does his best to respond, but can hardly move. A few minutes later, he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, it’s because his phone is ringing. He fumbles for it one-handed, not really cognizant of his surroundings, reaching for his pocket. His pocket is not where he expects it to be, primarily because his pants are in a heap on the floor. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbles, trying to get his bearings. Derek is stretched out beside him, and when he looks over, arches his eyebrows. “Shut up, you sexy bastard,” Stiles says, and Derek lifts his hands as if to point out that he hadn’t said a word. Stiles manages to extract his phone from his pants and sees that it’s his dad. “Not a word,” he says to Derek, before tapping ‘accept’. “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Sheriff Stilinski asks. “It’s nearly six.”

“Really?” Stiles rubs one hand over his face. School had gotten out at two thirty, and then he had had lacrosse practice, so he hadn’t gotten to Derek’s until around four thirty, so he hadn’t been asleep that long. “Lost track of time, I guess. I’ll be home in a bit.”

There’s a pause while his father analyzes this non-answer and apparently decides it will do for today. Not that they’re done with the topic. It will most likely pop back up when Stiles is least expecting it. “Okay. I’ll order something for dinner.”

“As long as you don’t – ” Stiles begins, but his father has already hung up. Stiles sighs. “Dad two, Stiles zero,” he says, and sits up. “Wow, I, uh, I fell asleep.”

“Yes, you did,” Derek says, those eyebrows going up again.

“Is there etiquette that I messed up there?” Stiles asks, and Derek just shrugs. Feeling awkward, Stiles crawls out of bed and pulls on his boxers and his pants. “Okay, uh, I’ve gotta get home. You know, for dinner and stuff. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you later?”

“Okay.” Derek sits up as well. He’s watching Stiles dress. Stiles feels his face flush pink, but he doesn’t try to stop Derek from looking. He tries to think of something to say. If there’s a good strategy for saying goodbye-for-now to the guy who just blew your mind, he doesn’t know what it is. He’s also trying to figure out when/if he can ask ‘so when are we going to do this again’ or at the very least ‘ _are_ we going to do this again’.

After he’s gotten his clothes back on, Derek gets off the bed. He’s still naked. Stiles forces himself not to stare, because he’s told his father he’ll be home soon, and he doesn’t want this to be a problem. “So, uh . . . parting is such sweet sorrow, right?”

Derek leans over and kisses him on the mouth. “I’ll see you later, Stiles.”

“Right,” Stiles says, and tries to pretend his heart is still in his chest, like Derek can’t _hear_ the way it beats out of control at his touch. “See you later.”

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 

After dinner that night, Stiles sees that he’s got a text from Derek. He pulls it up with a mixture of eagerness and apprehension, and sees that it’s a group text. It’s as terse as usual. ‘Pack mtg tmr nite 9 PM at the loft. Lydia your turn for snacks.’

Stiles considers this text for a long minute, considering what he wants to say and how he wants to say it, before typing out, ‘Should I try to keep my hands off you during the meeting?’

Derek correctly interprets his real question and replies, ‘No point trying to hide it. They’ll know.’

Stiles supposes that’s true. It’s those damnable werewolf senses. ‘Ok.’

Almost half an hour goes by, and he’s nearly forgotten they were having a conversation, when Derek texts him to say, ‘Do you want to try to hide it?’

Stiles blinks at his phone for a minute before he types back a lengthy text. ‘No, dude, I want to buy billboards and post signs and have a T-shirt made that says ‘I’m Having Fun Sexy Times with Derek Hale’ and then I want to wear it every day the rest of my life.’

He’s beginning to think that he might have gone a little too far, but then he gets a response that says, ‘do I get a matching one that says ‘I’m With Stupid’?’

‘Only if the arrow points down,’ Stiles replies. Derek doesn’t respond, which is fine, so Stiles types, ‘srsly, I’m ok with the others knowing if you’re ok with it’.

‘I don’t care. It’s none of their business anyway.’

Stiles is thinking about pointing exactly how little that is going to mean to Erica when Derek adds, ‘but you may want to tell Scott so he doesn’t have apoplexy’.

‘yyyyyeah,’ Stiles replies, and grimaces. ‘ok. See you tomorrow.’ He studies his phone for several long minutes before texting Scott with, ‘so, if I said I was having sex with Derek, what would you say?’ That’s good. Vague. He doesn’t want to commit to an answer until he sees how Scott is going to respond. He finds himself wondering exactly what constitutes ‘sex’. Can he say he and Derek are having sex when there hasn’t been any penetration? How exactly is the loss of virginity described? He makes a mental note to seriously research these things later. For the moment, since the exact extent of his sexual escapades with Derek are not Scott’s business, he’ll just go with ‘sex’ as a broad term.

It’s a few minutes before Scott replies. As usual, his texting is appalling. ‘omggggg I’m sorry ok I was wrong and Allison kicked my ass even harder than you did plz stop bein mad at me’

Stiles considers this for a moment before typing back, ‘no, dude, for real he had his hand down my pants today. Voluntarily.’

An even longer pause. ‘rly?’

‘Yeah for srs.’

‘how was it?’

‘a-fucking-plus’

‘So you’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘not rly, though if you try to pull an ‘everything turned out for the best so I wasn’t wrong’ kind of thing I’ll kick your ass again. You’re not, I dunno, weirded out?’

‘nah dude, good for you’

‘good, get on skype.’ Stiles breathes a sigh of relief as he scoots over to his computer. He’s been open about his bisexuality with Scott at about the same time he had figured it out, mostly because he can’t keep his mouth shut so he’s just as likely to comment on an attractive guy as he is an attractive girl. He wouldn’t have worried about Scott’s reaction if it weren’t _Derek_. Their relationship is rocky at best. Stiles doesn’t need his boyfriend and his BFF to be buddies, but he does need Scott not to try to talk him out of whatever this thing with Derek is.

“Hey,” Scott says, grinning at him. “So did you, like, do it?”

“Oh my God,” Stiles says, “what are you, nine?”

“Oh, sorry,” Scott says, and tries to look serious. “Did you two perform sexual intercourse?”

Stiles hoots with laughter despite himself. “It’s none of your business, you jerk, and so all I’m going to tell you is that we had a _very_ good time and he said something I did was the, and I quote, sexiest God damned thing he’s ever seen’.”

“Dude, you should have that framed and put on your wall.”

“I know, right?” Stiles asks, trying to tamp down his jubilant grin a little. “No, seriously, it was . . . I mean, it was amazing. A- _maz_ -ing. I can’t even. Remember back when you first started having sex with Allison and you wandered around with a doofy smile all the time and whenever I asked what was up you just gave her dreamy eyes and I made fun of you a lot? Yeah, I take all that back. Sorry.”

“So what happened? You said you were going over there to, you know, work things out.”

“Well, we uh, we worked things out,” Stiles says.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Stiles doesn’t want to tell Scott that Derek was freaking out because he thought he had been the one in the wrong, and most of this is none of Scott’s business anyway, but Scott’s been his best friend since he was six, he can’t just not explain. “We just hashed out what happened, which he didn’t remember a lot of it anyway, and decided we should try making out while not under the influence of witchcraft. Then we decided we liked it. Like, a lot.”

 Scott lets out a snort of laughter. “So . . . it all worked out.”

“Bitch, I will cut you,” Stiles says, and Scott’s holding his hands up in surrender; he obviously didn’t mean it. “Allison kicked your ass, huh?”

“She had extremely choice things to say about how I would feel if _she_ got put under a spell like that and started throwing herself at the nearest guy and he actually had sex with her,” Scott says. “When I was _done_ breaking furniture, I realized I had been an ass. So, you know. Sorry.”

“Apologize to Derek, dude, not me,” Stiles says, and Scott grimaces.

“At least I left him with someone he trusted,” Scott says. “I mean, _you_ did right by him, even when I was too stupid to realize there was a problem.”

“I guess.” Stiles rubs his hand over the back of his head. “It’s just weird, you know?” he continues, trying to keep the insecurities from leaping up into his throat. “I mean, is he my boyfriend now? It’s not like we’ve ever been on a date. Shit, I wouldn’t know how to go on a date with Derek Hale even if I wanted to. Are we just friends with benefits?”

“Maybe you should think about what you _want_ to be,” Scott says.

“Yeah . . . you’re probably right, but . . .”

“Look, I know, okay?” Scott says. “You think I didn’t feel the same way when I started going out with Allison? Like, why would this beautiful, funny, amazing girl want to have anything to do with me? But you just have to _go_ for it, man. I took a chance and it paid off, like, amazingly. So if you want to be his boyfriend, just tell him that. Maybe you’ll be surprised at what he says. It’s not like you had any idea he wanted to have sex with you, so why would you have any idea if he wants to date you?”

“You were doing great up until that last part,” Stiles says, with a snort of laughter. But he feels better regardless. “But yeah, okay. Maybe I will. It all just kind of . . . happened, and there wasn’t a lot of time to talk about what it _meant_. And I don’t want to be some girly guy who’s like ‘we can’t have sex if we don’t talk about our feelings’.”

“Look, if Derek doesn’t want to talk about it, then he doesn’t,” Scott says, “and so then you’ll know you’re just friends who fuck, and at least you’ll _know_ that, and can, I don’t know, adjust your emotional responses accordingly. Or something.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles says. “Shit, I’ve gotta go. I haven’t done any of my homework. I thought I’d be home _hours_ ago, y’know?”

“How many hours?” Scott asks, leering.

“Good _bye_ , Scott,” Stiles says, closing skype. Then he picks up his phone and texts Derek, ‘gonna come over round 8 tomorrow before the meeting so we can hang out/talk/watch TV/have orgasms/all of the above if that’s ok with you?’

He crosses his fingers and waits with baited breath until he gets a response. ‘I’ll get home from work around 7. Come over then.’

It’s phrased as an order rather than a request, but Stiles doesn’t care, he’s _giddy_ that Derek wants to spend _more_ time in his presence, that an extra hour won’t be enough. He’s already fantasizing about exactly how much sex they can fit in to two hours. ‘Ok. Will you have eaten?’

‘Was gonna wait til the mtg. Lydia’s bringing Chinese.’

Because of course Lydia wouldn’t just bring a few bags of chips and a twelve pack of soda. She’s Lydia Martin, and the party starts when she walks in. ‘ok, I’ll have dinner with my dad before I come over then’. It occurs to Stiles that he has no idea what ‘work’ Derek will be coming home from. Up until this moment, he didn’t even know Derek had a job. He thinks about asking, but then decides he’ll wait. There will be time for that later.

Stiles shakes his head at himself as he realizes how sappy his internal monologue is getting, but he can’t quite banish the thought that actually getting to know Derek is going to be the best reward of all.

 

~ ~ ~ ~

 


End file.
